Divinity Picturesque
by marapozsa
Summary: A mantra can be said a thousand ways, and mean a thousand things.


**Divinity Picturesque**

a c a n t **h a** - c h _a n_

**Authoress' Note & Disclaimer:** This is a one-shot made up of many segments of inner monologue set in Soubi's perspective - talking to himself, amusingly, as there's no other time during which he would care to let others partake verbally of what he knows - the times during which he doesn't know anyone's listening. He might seem a little out of character, unfortunately, but an enigma deserves to be multi-faceted. (I applaud those who actually understood that, and advise those who did not to read between the lines. Not everything can be laid out bare for everyone to see, after all.)

This ficlet of mine is set some time during the manga, and is AU due to the fact Seimei did not, in fact, die. (According to Wikipedia, anyway.) I've only read the first four volumes of the manga - and love Yun Kouga's art - so I apologize for any noticeable flaws in this. There shouldn't be any that I can't attibute to the AU setting, but, well, it's better to take unnecessary precautions than be caught in the midst of a lawsuit. I have never seen the anime.

Also, as you very well know (because then I'd know a lot more about Loveless), I don't own Loveless either.

---

You and I, we were fashioned of different materials. Myself, I'd like to think I'm made of splintered glass and porcelain shards. You...You were made of the same stuff as the stars. I'd have liked to tell you that someday before this, Seimei, but now it's too late and I regret missing the only chance I ever had.

I wish you would forgive me.

---

You could say that it's my fault. I know it probably is; but that's not the most damnable part of this twisted tryst. No, it's not what you think that really matters. No, it's not what I think either. It's the fact that this was all obviously preordained by someone Up There that obviously hates us from the bottom of their heart. You'd say that it was because they were jealous of our divinity, our compatibility, the way we fit together like two halves of a separate whole. You'd be so damned beautiful when you said it, too, like you always are. Your eloquence, your elegance - I, Soubi, am ethereal and foolish in comparison.

I cower in your shadow even when you command me otherwise - when you tell me to stand tall and firm, brazen and bold, with glory in the name of my God. It's the way things were meant to be, and not even you, my God, my master, my Beloved, can change that.

---

Eternity.

What an extravagant word you allowed yourself to speak of; with such a beautiful meaning that will never lapse in my memory. Anything previous of that isn't worth remembrance.

Forever - it's all you want, all you crave, but you've never forgotten that what Man wants is always something unattainable and just out of their reach. Their arm stretches long, but never long enough. Mankind, in effect, is insatiable.

The worst part is that you are too, although it's only a labyrinthine, tortuous version of the original blueprint. You've forgotten, you see, what you made sure you'd never neglect. You've forgotten that you are God to no one but me; and that, Beloved, Seimei, was your final faux pas.

---

What should I do? I know how I feel. I know what to feel. I know you told me to feel this way, and now I do. Hell, it's one of the first things you told me to do. Love me, you said in that insistent, charming, sleek manner that I couldn't resist even if I wanted to. Your power over me must be intoxicating for you, one of the many possible reasons you did what you did and thought what you thought.

(You could say, then, that this is all my fault, this entire mess. You would say that, too, because you're too perfect to ever allow the blame of another to blemish your immaculate image.)

You wanted for it to be this way - I could have told myself that from the beginning but I preferred to seduce myself with delusional imaginings that you really needed me. I've always been a liar. You've told me so...So many times I couldn't count them if I had from the beginning to the end of forever. That's what I mostly remember you as - the ambrosia, the voice in my head, the temptation to just pull someone into my arms and kiss them just to see what you would do; maybe you'd even hurt inside like I do when you pull your arms around another man and tell them that they are your world - same way you're mine. You relish the feeling of power it gives you.

---

You are supposed to be my all, the same way I am supposed to be perfect, but you didn't last forever, and neither did I. Besides, back then, you had him, the little brat with the little ears, the one you told me to go to and love if you were ever to die.

(Right before you died.)

And, well, you did, so now I resent every possible time you could have said that to me instead of whispering those sweet nothings you enjoy reminding me of. It's the only resent I feel for you, as not only were you my universe: you were also my virtuoso, my muse of inspiration. I only like butterflies because you do...Did. They remind me of you, flittering around and calling out everyone to come and see you in all your glory.

---

Elegance, eloquence. I've told you how much of those two qualities you have. I've been letting it get to your head without thinking of the consequences. The consequences eventually became too heavy to ignore in favor of your resplendence. Even human, you were still deified by everyone, anyone, and especially me. You told me to, so I did. I never regretted that, only that I forgot to tell you what you truly wanted to hear. You deserved to hear it one more time before you died, but you didn't let me say it.

You brought it upon yourself. You told me so.

---

You had your name carved on a stone, huge and ungratifying to your holiest of presences. It would stay there forever if I had anything to do with it, but since I didn't, not only did it slowly fade away - something washed away by tides of destiny - but even as it did, I, too, slowly dissipated into the atmosphere. I died from the inside out, you could say, in much the same way you did.

Like master, like servant, even into death's spectral embrace.

I call Ritsuka master now.

---

Languishing in the aftermath of your annihilation at the hands of one such as I was how I ended up. I dare not forget you, lest the remnants of your desolate existence come back to remind me of who I once was and the shadow of that man, that Fighter, that lost little boy. The shadow represents me now, at present, because if it were you, then it wouldn't remind me so much of lies and deceit.

If it were really you that the specters were trying to remind me of, then the shadows would form flittering wings and lurk only at the corners of my eyes, ascending in states of madness as you did.

---

I liked you, you know. You were my earth, my god, my stars in the sky, like you'd always desired it to end. I've never told you, but I really did love you. You lied about it, conniving as always, saying that it wasn't true when it was so obvious that I loved you. (And it wasn't just me either. It was everyone else, even those who resented it.)

Whether is was intentional or not, I think you did what you set out to do: break my heart.

...Of course, it might not have been just you.

I wouldn't know. I broke my own heart, as you very well know, the day you asked me to burn you alive in a child's classroom, Seimei. It was the way you told me it was going to end.

So it did...With the betrayal of servant by master (or the master by the servant, on **order** of the master - the irony of the situation, you could say) was not such a surprise to me, then, when you left me to the little brat and told me to love him...The boy, the little brother, the object of all your fantasies - Ritsuka was, in context, a replacement. For me.

(You told me to call him by his name, too, and not 'the little brat.' I still think that's all he is, because not even you can command my thoughts, but you'd never know. You're too busy being perfect.)

I'd like to think of it as the last vestiges of human attachment you had ever had.

In a sense, I wasn't truly killing you that day. Or, at least, that's what you would have said; and you would have told me to believe it, so I would have anyway.

I was simply burning your mortality away, little eternal butterfly, because it's what you told me to do; and as always, I obeyed.


End file.
